The One Left
by Jarhead
Summary: X-Files/Highlander crossover. What happens when the gathering is over?


The One Left The One Left  
  
By: Lowell "Jarhead" Houser(jarhead_h@yahoo.com)  
  
  
Summary: MSR/ Highlander  
  
Continuity Note: This is an unofficial sequel to "Today is the First Day of the Rest of Eternity", and pretty much every other X-Files/Highlander crossover out there. Mulder and Scully are both very experienced immortals by the start of this fic. Breaks from X-File continuity after Season Three. Highlander movies also don't have any bearing on this.  
  
Disclaimer: Everyone who owns the characters and ideas that I'm using without authorization can kiss my… well, that's best left unsaid. However, I created a few of the characters in this story, so please don't use them without my permission.   
  
Huh?  
  
Anybody else think that's a pretty stupid/hypocritical thing to say? Me too, so everybody reading this spread the word and incessantly mock those who put something like the above in their fanfic disclaimers.  
  
  
A word from the author: This is a piece I've had floating around in the back of my mind for a few years now. This is my first and last foray into this universe, so if anybody sees a story idea in this anywhere, please pursue it. I'd like to read it.  
  
  
Without further ado….  
  
  
***  
  
  
The One Left  
  
  
  
_The Truth is out there, and the truth is… __  
__  
__…There can be only one.__  
_  
  
  
What do I call this?  
  
What do you call the transcription of a miracle? It had to be a miracle. My testament? My version of events? If it isn't a miracle, then the game isn't over yet. But it has to be over. There aren't any other immortals left.  
  
Listen to me... babbling away like you have any clue as to what I'm talking about. Let me start again.  
  
I am a watcher. Throughout the ages there have been a race of beings among us. They are human in every way, except for one crucial difference.   
  
They are immortal.  
  
There is one way to kill them... You take their head… as in, off. Decapitation is the only way to kill them. When one of their own kind takes the head of another, they also take their part of the Power. Each immortal has a small sliver of that Power from the day of their birth. This Power is cumulative, transferred with every beheading.  
  
One day, it was said, that when there was enough power in the world, when enough immortals had been born and died, those remaining would be drawn to a distant land to fight until there was only one left. This has always been known as "The Gathering." That one left would then receive the "Prize." Just what this "Prize" was, has never been said exactly.   
  
Some said that it would give this last one the ability to rule forever over the lesser beings as their unquestioned master. Others held fast to the theory that the last one would be something akin to the Second Coming; a being that would bring peace and understanding to all who sought it, but who would age.   
  
Long life. Most of it with a young persons body. End it with many treating you as the Messiah. Sound nice yet? All that must be done is to live through one painful injury after another after another gotten during the millionth of so fight to the death you were in. As if that weren't enough, you can't have children. But maybe this is a blessing, as it makes for fewer people that you would have to say good bye to over the centuries as those you love die of old age while you remain locked eternally in your twenties.  
  
Funny, I guess then... that all along there was more than those two options.   
  
One immortal stumbled upon this fact. Perhaps you've heard of him by now- Duncan McCleod? He trained my pair over four hundred years ago. He died sixty-five years later, of old age.   
  
How you ask?   
  
There is one rule that no immortal would ever break, until Duncan broke it. Since the beginning of time immortals have been forbidden to kill another on holy ground. On that day, Duncan found out why.  
  
Duncan had a kinsman named Connor, same clan, different vintage. A century older than Duncan, Connor was bested by a whelp that used a gun to soften him up. Duncan met up with said whelp in a church outside of Chicago, and became the first immortal to regain his mortality. His "punishment" for killing on holy ground was to be transformed into a mortal, with no chance of ever receiving the prize.   
  
Duncan died a happy man; father of two, with grandchildren.  
  
Now I'm really babbling. It's the twenty-fifth century, and The Gathering has finally taken place. But here is where it gets really confusing. Because this ending has never been spoken of, and yet it fits perfectly. To truly understand, I have go to another flashback. Bear with me.  
  
Four hundred years ago, the Earth was in real trouble. A global conspiracy threatened every soul on the planet. This Consortium had long since begun implementing plans made by extraterrestrial forces, which would facilitate their colonization.   
  
That's where my pair comes in. One morning in 1993, a fairly young FBI agent was given a special assignment. This red-haired, five foot three beauty named Dana Scully was thrilled to be the one tasked with getting rid of the Bureau pariah; one Special Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder, a man who chased aliens, mutants, and assorted circus freaks looking for his sister who was taken when he was twelve. Talk about an odd way to meet your soulmate. It wasn't long before the other agents started calling her "Mrs. Spooky" and began taking bets on how long until the wedding date.  
  
They worked together for a few years, until both "dying" at the hands of the Consortium. They were married twenty years later, after finally beating the bastards. For the last four centuries they have had a marriage unmatched in the annuls of time. They weren't the first two immortals to marry, but they were the first two to stay married, if you can believe that. Every other immortal marriage has eventually dissolved into a duel to the death.   
  
Did I mention that immortals all carry around very sharp swords? Or that fencing was quite literally a matter of life and death for their kind? These two were no exception.  
  
But that never happened. They eventually found a way to live on, together; these two always do that. But what was in store for them no one could ever have predicted.   
  
I had followed them to Mars, where The Gathering was taking place. When we arrived, there were already a dozen dead immortals, with many more on the way. I joined the other watchers, no longer hiding, but standing in the open, the only ones who understood what was happening. We watched as the fate of humanity was decided in a clash of swords.  
  
I don't believe that I will ever witness such heroism again. On this day we witnessed men and women literally laying down their lives and giving their heads to friends, students, teachers. They would embrace their loved ones and then turn around and wait to die. The good realized that strength lay in smaller numbers. The more consolidated their power, the greater chance of a good future for humanity.   
  
The most heart-rending scene that played before my eyes was of two young ones, both less than a century apiece. Both were colony children, neither being from Earth. Karen hadn't ever been there. James had once vacationed in France. They had met only a decade ago, their paths crossing on a flight to Jupiter Station where they were forced to talk to each other instead of fighting, and had been inseparable since. It's possible that the two might have been married if The Gathering had not started. And then they realized what had to be done.  
  
He wouldn't do it. He started to, but couldn't finish. He dropped his sword, sank to his knees, and begged her to take him instead. They'd already fought for a day and a half about this. She made it clear that she would not, so he'd better. She wanted him to live. And, as far as he was concerned, without her it would be all right for death to come knocking on his door, which he also made quite clear.  
  
Both wanted the other to survive this, but neither wanted to live without the other there. So she knelt down beside him. They were both crying. They kissed, then grabbed their swords, and got up. He took her hand in his and they walked off together to challenge another pair of immortals, knowing full well that neither was strong enough to win a one on one battle without the strength of the other.  
  
James and Karen died less then five feet from each other, him first, her a few seconds later. A small smile touched her lips as she gazed on his body in her final moments. I think that Karen knew that somehow, she would be rejoining him when her opponent's blade bit into her neck.   
  
My pair watched in silence, holding each other as if for dear life, and waited. Scully and Mulder had been fond of this young couple, and even though death was a given for them, it didn't make it any easier to watch. When it was over, my pair looked on the victors with open hatred. Only I knew them well enough to spot the fear, not of dying, but of only one of them dying.   
  
Christopher and Philpe Napier where the only immortal brothers in all of recorded history. Twins born in thirteenth century France. Both were killed in battle as conscripts. They were found and taught by a decent man. Christopher killed him, Philipe taking the next head and Christopher the next. Going into the Gathering, they were dead even. They still were by this late in the game, in fact. They still would be two days later, when they went up against the last two immortals left alive, other than themselves…  
  
… Mulder and Scully.  
  
The twins were over a thousand years old. That's probably why they died that day. They were too sure of themselves, too overconfident. That and Philipe didn't realize just how good Mulder was. Christopher almost killed Scully though. She was having trouble with him, no other way to put it. Until... I had to laugh when Mulder's sword found it's way into Scully's hand, still warm from the Quickening Mulder had just put it through. Christopher wasn't laughing. He was busy fighting someone that preferred using two swords.  
  
That's when it really hit me. How cruel could God be? If Scully won, her and Mulder would have to try to kill each other. This was shaping up to be the toughest divorce of all time.  
  
The Quickening came all too soon. Those of us professional voyeurs stood in shock. The Prize would belong to one of my pair. As soon as the Quickening's effects wore off, they would stand and begin the final battle. So until then he held her. And she him. Goodbye wasn't something these two would say.   
  
I guess it was an hour before they stirred. And when I saw his face I saw the steel there. I saw the determination to be the one. And when I looked at her I saw bloodlust. I saw the face of Satan's mistress. And so did my colleagues.   
  
Something wasn't quite right here.  
  
She struck first, savagely. He countered the blow easily. This was going to take awhile. My pair had practiced on each other every morning since the twentieth century. They were so well matched that my colleague's didn't really think anything of the fact that they were dancing around each other.  
  
I have never been in a sword fight in my life. But after watching enough of them you pick up things. Especially when you know the combatants like I do. I'd watched them do this hundreds of times, and there was something different about this match. She was being ferocious; wild and unpredictable. He was rigidly disciplined, playing defensive and seemingly trying to take advantage of her sudden carelessness.   
  
She drew first blood. That's when I knew something was very wrong. He practically cut himself on her blade, and she struck for a non-vital area. God it was so obvious. She was trying to get him to kill her. And he was losing on purpose. So we watched as they kept at it. I didn't notice that Mulder was still bleeding until he did...  
  
...More than five minutes later.  
  
He looked at the wound. All of a sudden he stopped, and stared, dumbfounded. She did the same. He touched the cut through his shirt, apparently not believing that it was still there. He held his hand up; she walked forward and inspected his blood-coated fingertips. The cut was still open and bleeding. On a normal person that wound would need suturing, but I've seen a lot worse heal much faster than this on both of them. So had they.  
  
She pulled away his shirt where she had sliced him, and inspected his wound. Scully had been back to medical-school a couple of times over the years, trying to keep current. Both of their swords dropped to the ground. Then her hand shot over to the sleeve of her jacket, and ripped it off. She then pressed it against the wound, and looked up at him.  
  
He had a smile unmatched in any face I have ever seen, until she broke into one too. The cut was still bleeding, but he'd live to make it to a hospital. He brought his hands up to hers. The glint of the sun bounced off of their matching wedding rings as I looked through my optics, and I suddenly understood the legends and the vocabulary and everything about the immortals.  
  
There can be only one. How much more "one" do you get than that? I guess it's all in how you look at things. A lone warrior would have been "one," of course. But he or she would not have been complete. Some things have to come as a set, other wise what's the point, because you've only got half?   
  
Yin and yang, faith and reason, husband and wife…  
  
… Mr. and Mrs. Spooky.  
  
  
  
  
_End._  
  



End file.
